


inching close, closer to the edge

by JourEtNuit



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 05:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JourEtNuit/pseuds/JourEtNuit
Summary: “But why do we have to pretend to be married?” Sara whines. “Can't we, I don't know, go as friends or cousins, or something. Oh, I know! She could be my secretary...”“It's a couples retreat, Miss Lance," Rip says, tiredly.





	inching close, closer to the edge

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I've never been to a couples retreat, so most of this is probably inaccurate. 
> 
> The title is from "Drove Me Wild", by Tegan and Sara

“No," Ava says immediately. She's standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind her back, mouth set in a firm line.

“Absolutely not," Sara says at the exact same time, arms crossed as she leans against her desk.

Rip sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated yet not surprised. “If you'd just hear me out...”

“Rip," Sara interrupts him, “there's gotta be another way.”

“I concur, Director Hunter. Your plan doesn't even follow proper Time Bureau protocol.” Sara rolls her eyes, but Ava continues, undeterred. “Maybe we should look into a more classic approach. How about setting up a team for surveillance first?”

“We don't have _time_ , Agent Sharpe. The only thing I know for sure is if we travel to 2015, on a small island off the coast of England, we'll find two of Mallus' powerful allies, right before he recruits them to his side. We need to take them out at that exact time, before they become basically invulnerable. Which is why I thought of sending the two of you undercover.”

“But why do we have to pretend to be _married_?” Sara whines. “Can't we, I don't know, go as friends or cousins, or something. Oh, I know! She could be my secretary...”

“It's a couples retreat, Miss Lance," Rip says, tiredly, before Ava has time to protest - and she clearly wants to, given the offended face she makes at Sara's suggestion.

Sara exhales slowly through her nose, head tilted backward as she thinks. Rip doesn't miss the way Ava stares at Sara's bare throat, but he chooses to ignore it. Instead, he rises from the leather armchair in the corner of the Waverider's parlour and faces the two of them.

“Captain Lance, Agent Sharpe, you are the two people I trust the most to get the job done," he says, as earnest as he can possibly be. “You both have the training, the strength, and the skills to succeed. I know this isn't an easy task, and you aren't used to working together, but I wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't absolutely necessary.”

Ava gives him a long, searching look, before relenting, just like he hoped she would. “All right. If it is as crucial as you say it is, I'll do it.”

Which leaves Sara. There's a minute of tense silence, as she considers her answer. Sara's hesitation doesn't really surprise Rip. He knows her, knows how her reluctance to work with the Time Bureau - and her resentment of him - must weight against her commitment to do the right thing.

As if she were reading his mind, Sara looks him straight in the eye. “If this is another one of your schemes, Rip...”

“It's not," he promises, hurriedly.

“Ugh," she groans. “Fine.” And then she turns towards Ava, with a small teasing smile. “Who knows? Maybe this will be fun.”

Rip lets out a sigh of relief.

Ava swallows nervously. “We should lay down some ground rules. I'll send you the Time Bureau's handbook on undercover missions. Please, read it in full, Miss Lance.” She sends Sara a look that's half begging, half imperious, and promptly walks through a portal back to the Bureau's headquarters.

Sara's smile disappears, and she rubs at her temples like she's trying to soothe a headache. “I can't believe I'm agreeing to this.”

 

 

 

“I can't believe I agreed to this," Sara whispers to herself.

In front of her, the path leads to a classically beautiful wrought iron gate. The elegant plaque on the right side reads “ _Welcome to Villa Serenity – Dr R. Jenkins Couples Retreat_ ”.

Sara's frowns deepens. “ _Villa Serenity_. Jesus fucking Christ. Who even names their house?”

Next to her, Agent Sharpe is trying, and failing, to hide her distaste. “I suppose we should go in. We don't want to be late.”

She checks her pockets, adjusts the sunglasses on her nose, fidgets with the strap of her duffle bag, until Sara gives her a pointed look. “Stop acting so nervous, you'll blow our cover before we even set foot in the house.”

“I'm not nervous," Agent Sharpe bites back. She lowers her voice. “Is your team in position?”

Sara nods. She's scattered the Legends around the Villa so that they can act as back up if needs be. “Alright, let's do this, _darling._ ”

The glare she receives from Ava almost makes the entire mission worth it. Almost.

 

 

 

“Good evening, and welcome! I'm Esther Jenkins, the doctor's wife. You must be Sara and Ava. So glad you could join us!”

The woman who greets them in the hallway is inexplicably cheerful, and Sara is immediately suspicious. She's trained enough to hide it, though, and so she smiles and nods as they exchange a few banalities about the weather and the hardships of traveling. Ava's attitude is kinda stiff, but Esther doesn't seem to notice. Sara's sure lots of guests act awkward at first – it's a _couples retreat_ for God's sake.

She resists the impulse to roll her eyes, again, and takes Ava's arm. “Are you tired, love?" she asks, sweetly. She feels Ava tense slightly under her touch, and then relax.

Ava pats her hand. “I am, actually. Would you mind showing us to our room?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

They follow Esther up the stairs, and the whole time, Sara's hand stays in the crook of Ava's elbow. She tells herself it's because Agent Sharpe is obviously a little anxious about the undercover mission, and she needs a guiding hand until she finds her footing.

But if she's totally honest, there's something comforting about the physical connection, something that grounds Sara, and makes her feel less – well, less on edge about the whole thing.

 

 

 

At dinner, they meet Dr Richard Jenkins, the therapist, and the three other couples participating in the retreat. Sara is on the alert for any clues, gathering information about their companions. See, Rip knew that two of these people would eventually join Mallus, but he didn't know which ones – that's for Sara and Ava to figure out.

Unfortunately, no one strikes her as a viable candidate for the role of evil sidekick, and when they return to their bedroom after two hours of excruciating conversation with zero progress made, Sara is ready to murder Rip with her own hands. In all thirty ways she knows how.

“If I have to listen to one more minute of these rich assholes blabbering about their lives, I swear someone is gonna get stabbed," she complains, loudly, throwing herself on the bed.

Ava sits at the desk, her back to Sara, and comments, somewhat snidely: “I thought you'd be used to it. Didn't you date Oliver Queen?”

Rude. “First of all, what kind of stalker are you, Agent Sharpe? And second, Ollie has his faults, but he's never been boring.”

Ava doesn't respond, so after a minute, Sara raises her head, to find her busy writing in a small notebook. “Is this really the best time to update your diary?”

“This is called taking field notes, Miss Lance. Maybe if you knew what it was, your team would be a little less disastrous.”

“Oh, here we go again," Sara sighs as she lets her head fall back on the bed. “You know, I remember my disastrous team recently saving us all from our good friend Damian Darhk, when the Time Bureau didn't even think we had a chance.”

Ava huffs unhappily. “You have your moments.”

Sara can't help smiling at the admission. “Aww, you _do_ like us, Agent Sharpe.”

Ava doesn't dignify that with an answer, instead finally turning to face Sara. “Tomorrow will be a full day of group activities, we should use that time to investigate.” She grabs the program they received at dinner. “It says the morning will be devoted to “ _deepening intimacy and building trust_ ”. How do you think we should approach it? Do we need to go over our story again, to prepare for the therapy session?”

“I don't know, I've never been to therapy in my life. Never needed to," Sara says, dismissively.

“Well, that explains a lot," Ava mutters under her breath.

“I don't need your opinion on my mental health, Sharpe," Sara snaps back, her tone harsher than she intended. Ava bites her lip, looking a mix between affronted and remorseful, and silence stretches between them. Sara stares up at the ceiling, wishing she was back in her quarters on the Waverider, and not stuck here with Agent Sharpe of all people. Damn it, Rip. She knew this wasn't a good idea.

Ava clears her throat. “It's getting late. I think we should call it a night.”

“Yeah.”

Ava stands up, and then awkwardly hovers near the desk, and that's when Sara notices, all of a sudden, that she's currently sprawled on the only bed in the room. She sits up abruptly.

“So...”

“I'll sleep on the floor," Ava cuts her off, firmly.

“Don't be an idiot. There's enough room for two.”

“I'm not sure that's...” Ava seems at a loss for words, finally settles on “appropriate.”

Sara raises an eyebrow. “What, the Time Bureau has rules against sharing quarters when out on a field trip? That doesn't seem practical. Aren't you guys super professional, after all?”

Ava scoffs, but there's no real bite to it. “Not sure you know the meaning of that word, Captain Lance.”

“Whatever. At least I don't snore.”

“Me neither!”

“That's not what Gary said.”

 

 

 

Sara wakes up with a muffled gasp, disoriented, heart pounding in her ears. Ava's hand is covering her mouth, and instinctively, Sara fights back against the intrusion, one hand flying to Ava's throat, planting her feet in the mattress to try and propel herself out of reach.

But Ava is quicker, fully awake and clear headed. She dodges Sara's attack and pins her wrist to the mattress. “Calm down. You were having a nightmare. You're okay.”

Sara blinks. Ava's voice is firm, the voice of someone used to giving orders, but still a little gravelly from sleep. Something stirs in her stomach, and she lies still for a moment, trying to grasp the elusive feeling.

“Sara?” Ava asks, cautious.

She is very close, Sara realizes, much closer than she thought. In the darkness of the room, she can't quite make out her face, but she feels Ava's hair tickling her bare arm, the warmth of her breath against her cheek.

“I'm fine," Sara manages to answer. Her voice is a little shaky, which more than anything unnerves her. She's not used to anyone witnessing her weaknesses. Ava's fingers are still tight around her wrist, pressing it down, and it's starting to hurt. Sara finds she doesn't mind the pain.

“I'm fine," she repeats, louder. This time, Ava lets go of her, and puts some distance between them. She seems to hesitate, before speaking. “You were screaming. I didn't want other people to hear, or ask questions tomorrow. Sorry if I scared you.” A pause. “Must have been a pretty bad nightmare.”

“Sorry I woke you up," Sara replies, very obviously avoiding the implied question. What were you dreaming about? What makes Sara Lance scream in the middle of the night?

Ava shrugs. “Don't worry about it.” And then she adds, softly: “Go back to sleep, Sara.”

And Sara does.

 

 

 

Breakfast is a dull affair, but at least there's coffee. Sara is wedged between Esther Jenkins, who keeps trying to ask about her family, and a man named Henry who's vaguely flirting with her while his wife, Charlotte, is chain-smoking out on the porch. Ava seems to be faring a little bit better, engaged in a lively conversation with Gregory and his husband Arturo.

Soon after, they're led in a wide, sunny room, and asked to take a seat close to their respective partner. Sara plops down on the couch beside Ava, throwing an arm around her shoulders. Ava's hands tense where they're resting on her knees, and Sara catches Dr Jenkins watching them with interest. She leans close to Ava's ear. “Relax, will you?” she whispers. Her efforts have the opposite effect though, because when her lips accidentally brush against the shell of Ava's ear, Ava shivers.

“Are you cold, dear?” Esther asks from the other side of the room. Ava smiles awkwardly and accepts the offer of a plaid blanket, which she drapes over her lap. She purposefully avoids eye contact with Sara.

“Alright, let's start off our day by talking about intimacy," Dr Jenkins says.

Sara quickly tunes out the presentation, instead observing the suspects. Gregory and Arturo are holding hands, listening with rapt attention. Henry and Charlotte both look incredibly bored. The last couple, David and Miriam, keep interrupting the lecture to ask questions, seemingly very anxious to get it right.

This is frustrating. There's no indication whatsoever that any of these people have a particular disposition for evil. Sara really wants to trust Rip, but she can't shake the feeling that they are wasting their time here.

“And now, our first exercise of the day.”

Sara suddenly pays attention again. “Please sit upright and face your partner.”

Oh no. There's a ruffling sound in the room as everybody shuffles to obey the instructions. Ava is already sitting cross-legged on the couch, and Sara turns slowly to mirror her position. Ava's face is a mask of indifference. Fine, if that's how she wants to play it, Sara can do indifference. She's a pro at not feeling anything. Her face is a blank wall of stoicism. Her eyes are two wells of disinterest. She doesn't care one bit...

“Now, lean slightly toward your partner, until your foreheads are touching, and breathe seven deep slow breaths, in complete synchronicity.”

“Oh you've gotta be kidding me," Sara mutters between clenched teeth.

At least, Agent Sharpe looks about as thrilled as she feels. Sara rolls her eyes, and slowly inclines her head forward, feeling extremely ridiculous. Yeah, she's definitely killing Rip when she sees him again.

When their foreheads touch, Sara stops breathing altogether. Which is probably not the point of the exercise. She can't help it, being so close to Ava – to anybody, she corrects herself, stubbornly – is a little overwhelming. Intimacy is not one of her strong suits.

Ava must notice her discomfort, because she grabs one of Sara's hands and holds it between her own. “Focus," she whispers. “Breathe.”

Sara's cheeks grow warm. She wants to protest that holding hands makes this _even worse_ , that she can't focus on anything when Ava's lips are so close to her lips, their noses almost touching, breaths mingling together. But then Ava inhales, slow and deep, starting the exercise, and Sara follows her lead.

In, out. Ava's mouth is open, Sara catches a glimpse of her tongue, and the impulse to kiss her is so strong she has to close her eyes. In, out. In, out. It's much easier with her eyes closed. She concentrates on her breathing, like she was taught in the League. Like she was taught by Nyssa. Her breath hitches slightly, and Ava squeezes her hand, a warning to stay on track.

In, out. In, out. And then it's over, and Dr Jenkins is congratulating everybody on their work, going on and on about the merits of holistic breathing or whatever, and Sara's left with the memory of Ava's soft skin against her own, and a strange tightness in her chest.

 

 

 

“So," Dr Jenkins says, hands clasped together, looking at them with a warm smile. “Let's talk about why you two are here. You've stated, in your application, that you've been experiencing some problems in your marriage. Why don't we start with you, Ava? Would you like to talk about anything specific?”

Ava glances at Sara. The two of them are sitting in Dr Jenkins' office, for their private therapy session. Sara nods encouragingly. They've prepared for this.

“Well, we are very different people..." Ava starts.

“How so?”

She pretends to think about it. “I am organized, I like to plan ahead, I think self-discipline and self-control are necessary qualities to have as an adult...”

“On the other hand, I have an actual sense of humor," Sara cuts her off. It earns her a glare – this isn't part of the script – but she couldn't help it. Ava is so easy to rile up sometimes.

“Humor is a wonderful tool to help build friendship and familiarity, but it can also be used to distance yourself," Dr Jenkins says, pointedly looking at Sara.

She frowns. Ava, voice dripping with smugness, keeps talking. “I think what bothers me most is that I expect a certain level of maturity from my wife, and Sara has a tendency to behave very childishly.”

“I see," Dr Jenkins says, scribbling down some notes. “Sara, would you say that's accurate? How do you feel about the point Ava brings up?”

“I think it's bullshit," Sara answers, kinda heatedly. And it's weird, because _she_ _knows_ this is all part of their cover story, which they've rehearsed together, but it also sounds like maybe that's what Ava thinks of her, and she can't help the frustration building in her stomach. “And a little insulting. I'm not a child.”

“You sure enjoy acting like one," Ava grumbles.

“Alright, I am sensing some aggression here. Let's remember to use “I” statements, and that honesty doesn't mean hostility.”

“Sorry, Doctor," Ava says, with the least convincing contrite smile Sara's ever seen. “What I meant to say is that it upsets me when I feel like I'm the only one doing the work.”

“Oh come on," Sara groans. “We both know that's not true. I've saved the wo... our relationship more times than you ever have.”

“You've also destroyed it.”

“Once! And it's not like I had any other choice!”

Dr Jenkins' eyes go back and forth between them like he's watching a tennis game. “Would you like to elaborate? What did Sara destroy, exactly?”

“First of all, it wasn't just me," Sara protests.

“Ah yes, let's talk about your team!” Ava scoffs. “Why you would surround yourself with that kind of people, I still don't understand.”

“Of course you wouldn't understand. Do you even _have_ friends?”

Okay, that was a low blow. Ava presses her lips together in a thin, angry line.

“Alright, let's take a breather here. Obviously, you two have some issues, and I'm sure we'll have the opportunity to dig into them tomorrow, since we'll be focusing on conflict resolution," Dr Jenkins intervenes, in a transparent attempt to defuse the tension. “But for the remaining part of our session today, I'd like you to focus on the good things. What do you value about each other? Sara, let's start with you this time.”

Sara opens her mouth. Nothing comes out. This - _compliments_ \- this isn't something they prepared for. “No need to be shy," Dr Jenkins prods her gently. “Just be honest!”

Be honest. Sara racks her brain for something safe to say. “You're very athletic," she ends up blurting, and immediately winces. “I like that we have a shared interest in, uh, working out," she adds, trying to salvage this. “We're a good match.”

She's pretty sure that was the least smooth she's ever been, but Ava's eyes soften, anger turning into something resembling fondness. “Thanks," Ava says. She takes a deep breath, like she's about to confess some dark, terrible secret. “I actually think you're, hum, a _decent_ leader.”

“Really?” Sara's touched, despite herself. Ava shrugs.

“I don't always approve of your methods, but I know your heart is in the right place.”

Right now, Sara's heart is beating a little too fast. She's not used to Agent Sharpe being so nice to her.

“I don't really hate the pantsuit, it looks good on you," she admits, and to her great pleasure, Ava _blushes_.

Well. Maybe therapy isn't so bad after all.

 

 

 

Sara's getting anxious. It's been a whole day already, and they still don't have the beginning of an answer, and it's not for lack of trying. Ava spent the afternoon discreetly spying on the other participants, while Sara was sneaking into their bedrooms and searching for evidence.

No conclusive results. Right before the evening meal, Sara contacts Ray on the Waverider to update the team, and asks if they've had any luck with research back on the ship. No good news either on their side.

Dinner goes by quicker than she expected, and they all congregate in the living room afterwards. The chairs have been pushed back against the walls, bottles of expensive wine lined up on a side table.

“We thought you'd all enjoy a little bit of fun after all the hard work today!” Dr Jenkins exclaims. Music fills the room, and the other couples clap and laugh, clearly delighted with the impromptu party.

Ava's eyes widen. She wipes her hands on her pants. “Are we supposed to dance?”

“For the sake of appearances, we probably should," Sara says, gloomily, before eyeing the wine. “I'm gonna need some liquid courage for this.”

She pours some fancy-looking red wine in two stem glasses, hands one to Ava. “Drink up.”

Sara's always been fond of dancing. Laurel and her took ballet as children, and during her time in the League, as part of her training, she learned almost every dance style. Now, pressed against Ava, one arm curled around her waist, she thinks she might enjoy dancing even more than she thought.

“When did we decide you'd be the one to lead?” Ava murmurs in her ear, sounding a little sulky. Sara smirks, and releases Ava's waist before twirling her around and back in her arms. The move is flawlessly executed, and earns them a few cheers from the others.

“Who would have thought you'd be so good at following?” Sara teases. Ava's hair is up and Sara watches with delight as the tips of her ears turn bright red. _She's so cute when she's flustered_. A few blond curls have escaped from Ava's simple bun so Sara, on an impulse, tucks them back behind her ear.

Her hand lingers close to Ava's face, fingers touching her cheek. Ava glances down at Sara's lips, then her eyes, and back at her lips again. Sara's head spins a little – she blames it on the wine. Ava's hand tightens on Sara's shoulder.

Sara _knows_ , suddenly, where this is going, and she exhales a sharp little sigh of understanding, just before Ava kisses her.

Her lips are soft, warm, a little wet. Sara closes her eyes, gently takes Ava's face between her hands, and kisses her back.

She tastes like fancy wine, and the apple cinnamon cake they had for dessert. When Sara licks her bottom lip, and slips her tongue inside her mouth, Ava's hand slides up until she's cradling the back of Sara's head, strong fingers pressed to the nape of her neck. Sara whimpers into Ava's mouth, and dimly thinks of moving this to somewhere more private, until it dawns on her exactly where they are.

She releases Ava's face and takes a step back. Ava is looking at her with hungry eyes, and it's very, very hard not to kiss her again, but Sara resists the temptation. Instead she takes a look around the room, notices how everyone is looking at them after that public display of affection, and instantly knows they are drawing too much attention to themselves. Time to retreat.

“Well, I think we are ready to call it a night. See you all tomorrow!” she announces, with a bright smile, leading Ava towards the stairs.

Once safely back into their bedroom, away from it all, the only thing left between them is heavy, awkward silence. Sara sits on her side of the bed, removes her earrings, takes off her shoes – all while Ava stands straight with her back to the door, her jaw clenched, eyes fixed somewhere above Sara's head.

“Are you okay?” Sara ends up asking, because at this rate, Ava's gonna stand guard all night.

“Fine," Ava mutters. She briefly looks at Sara, then averts her eyes again. “I'm sorry about earlier. I... I got carried away pretending... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you.”

Sara's chest aches, like her ribs are pressing against her lungs. It takes her a while to recognize the feeling for what it is: disappointment. “Not a big deal," she manages to reply, going for a casual tone. Even to her ears, she just sounds a little sad.

They stay quiet after that, until Ava eventually disappears in the bathroom to change for the night. When she comes back in her flannel pajamas, Sara pretends she's already asleep.

 

 

 

The alarm clock's tone is obnoxiously cheerful, and Sara, still half asleep, throws an arm in the vague direction of the noise, sending the machine flying across the room.

Silence settles again in the bedroom. Sara hums contently in her pillow. She's so comfortable – there's no way she's getting up just yet. The arm around her waist tightens, and instinctively Sara shuffles backward a little, burrowing in the warmth and pressing her back against...

Wait a second. The arm around her waist? Sara's eyes open wide and she stills, afraid any sudden movement will wake Ava up.

Ava, who is currently _spooning_ _her_.

Just as Sara is trying to figure out the best way to extricate herself out of Ava's embrace – and trying very hard to ignore how good it feels to be held like that – Ava yawns, and the hand resting on her stomach flexes.

Clearly Agent Sharpe is as shocked as Sara by this turn of events, because it takes her a total of five seconds before she rolls away from Sara with a muttered curse. As soon as she does, Sara misses the connection, and she scolds herself internally. When did she become such a sap? There's no time for cuddles, this is _work_. She can't get distracted by this...unfortunate _crush_ she's apparently developed.

So Sara waits a couple minutes before yawning loudly, stretching like she just woke up. They get ready for the day, and since Ava doesn't mention anything, Sara doesn't either.

 

 

 

“Fucking hell. I know who our targets are.”

No response. Sara taps her ear com', tries again. “Ava, you there? I found out who we're looking for. You're never gonna believe...”

The door of the doctor's office bangs open, and Sara whirls around, and ducks. The knife sinks into the wall behind her with a solid _thump_.

Dr Jenkins is standing in the doorway, with a grin on his face, an ax in his hands, and blood on his white shirt. “I'm afraid your wife is a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“What did you do to her?”

His smile widens, and Sara can't help staring at the razor-sharp teeth. “Oh, I didn't do anything. My dear Esther, on the other hand... Well, what can I say. She's always had quite the appetite.”

Dread seizes Sara's heart, her jaw clenches in anger. She reaches for the knives strapped to her thighs. “I'm gonna enjoy killing you. How's that for conflict resolution?”

He lets out a truly demonic laugh, and charges towards her, swinging his ax like a madman.

God, and people wonder why she doesn't trust therapists.

 

 

 

She finishes him off right as Amaya and Nate barge into the room, thrusting her knife deep into his skull.

“Nice work, Captain," Nate says, clasping her shoulder. Sara winces, which prompts Amaya to give her a concerned look.

“Are you okay?”,

“I'm fine," Sara grunts. Amaya rolls her eyes and points at the nasty gash on her bicep, at the blood running down her arm.

“You're hurt, Sara. Come on, let's get you to the med bay. Nate can deal with the mess in here.”

Nate looks down at the bloody corpse and grimaces, but Sara can't find it in herself to be amused. Something thick is clogging her throat, making it hard to talk. It's fear, she realizes, but not for herself. She swallows with difficulty. “Where's Ava? Is she alright?”

Amaya tugs at her uninjured arm, leading her out of the office. “Agent Sharpe is well. Mick and Zari arrived just in time to help her defeat the other monster, Esther or whatever her real name is. She's being treated for a few minor cuts and bruises as we speak.”

Sara may trust Amaya with her life, but it's only when she sees Ava with her own two eyes that she feels any kind of actual relief. She'd never thought that the sight of Agent Sharpe bickering with Gideon as the AI tries to convince her to lie down would fill her heart with so much happiness, and yet.

She doesn't have time to ponder this, as Gideon's attention turns to her, and she sits dutifully on the other med bay cot, letting Gideon tend to her wounds. Ava is grumpily swallowing painkillers, muttering in an offended tone about _some robot trying to boss her around_. Sara bites her cheeks to stop herself from smiling.

Once they are both patched up, and Gideon gives them a clear bill of health, Sara takes Ava to the parlour, where they call Rip and debrief the mission.

And then, it's just the two of them, back where they started, Sara leaning against her desk, Ava standing in front of her. Sara doesn't know how to say goodbye – doesn't want to say goodbye at all. She reaches for the bottle of bourbon on her desk and fills up two glasses. She's stalling, a little. “I'm glad you're okay, you had me scared for a minute.”

Ava smiles as she accepts the glass of bourbon. “Likewise.”

They clink their glasses together, and Sara takes a slow sip, savoring the honeyed bite of the alcohol. “Well, I'm glad it's all over. God, Rip really owes us one.”

Ava looks down, eyes set on the amber liquid swirling in her glass. “It wasn't all terrible, though, was it?”

Sara tilts her head. There's something in Ava's tone... something that hints at a hidden question within her question.

“Dancing with you was kinda fun," she agrees, lightly. A pause and she adds, with a smirk: “And what came after the dancing. That was good too.”

Ava raises an eyebrow, looking both amused and curious. Sara winks at her, and Ava laughs, shaking her head like she can't quite believe Sara is real. She has a nice laugh, Sara thinks. Full and deep, joyful. She hasn't seen Ava so relaxed in... ever – she feels a sudden rush of affection for her.

“In all seriousness, even though this job was kind of a nightmare on so many levels, I'm glad I got to know you better. We make a good team.”

“I have to admit, I did enjoy working with you, Sara. For the most part. I could do without the whole marriage thing.”

“So I guess this means we're getting a divorce?” Sara jokes.

Ava nods, still smiling. “Don't think I'm ready for the holy bond of matrimony just yet.” She finishes her drink, puts the glass back on the desk. Suddenly, she's close enough that Sara could touch her.

“We did agree to get married awfully fast," Sara says, in a low voice. “But I wonder...”

Ava takes a step towards her. When Sara looks up, she finds her staring at her mouth. She bites her lip. “Maybe if we took things slow. Started from the beginning...”

Before she can finish her sentence, Ava is kissing her, fervently, a little desperate and more than a little rough, all the pent up tension of the past two days pouring out of her. Sara sinks her fingers into Ava's hair and kisses her just as ardently. The edge of the desk digs into her back, as Ava presses the length of her body against her, but she couldn't care less. Desire is coursing through her, from her chest to her thighs, arousal throbbing between her legs.

Oh, they deserve this. This is going to be good.

“Just promise me one thing," Sara gasps in between kisses. Ava makes a small noise of acknowledgment, one hand rubbing at the small of Sara's back. “Whatever happens, we're never going on a couples retreat again.”

 

 

 


End file.
